


Gray/OC One Shot Prompts

by keycat



Category: Fallout 4
Genre: (even though they aren't actually related), Father-Daughter Relationship, Kissing, M/M, Mild Language, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-17
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-04-01 10:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13996077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keycat/pseuds/keycat
Summary: One shots I've done with Gray and various OCs that belong to my friends





	1. Missing Pieces

**Author's Note:**

> (Gray/Davy)
> 
> Gray consoles Davy about her father.

“What are you still doing here?”

Davy didn’t even look up at the sharp, barking voice that had come from behind her. She took a long drag on her cigarette before stubbing it out on the ground and tucking what remained behind her ear. “You don’t scare me, Gray.”

Gray scowled and stepped closer, leaning against the broken fence Davy was sitting behind, facing the setting sun. “I wasn’t looking to scare you.”

“You know what I mean.” She flashed him a wry smile. “I see the way you and MacCready operate. You like to put the fear of God in him.”

Gray’s brows came together in irritation. “I don’t--”

“Don’t worry about it. He likes it. He needs someone to be there for him. Someone to be strong and hold him tight, and tell him it’ll be alright and to...to tell him, you know…”

“I’m not sure I do know,” Gray said, raising an eyebrow.

Davy threw her hands up. “To just...to tell him when he’s fucked up, to fix his shit when he breaks it, to tell him that you’re...just so fucking proud of who he’s grown up to be, and…”

Gray stepped back, hands raised slightly.  “Are you--crying?”

“Fuck no,” Davy said, but she scrubbed her face angrily with the back of her hand.

“This...isn’t about MacCready, is it?”

“Oh, wow, congratu--fucking--lations, you figured it out,” Davy spat, rolling her eyes and turning away from Gray, drawing her knees up under her chin and crossing her arms over her shins.

“Don’t take that tone with me, I’ll bend you over my knee right here.”

Davy growled to keep from cracking a smirk. “Fine. But only because I don’t want to see you break a hip, old man.”

“Seriously. What’s wrong?” Gray squatted down at her side, putting one hand uncomfortably on her shoulder, which she shrugged off.

“Seriously. It’s nothing. Nothing that concerns you, anyway.”

Gray frowned. “You miss your dad, don’t you?”

Davy’s eyes went wide and she let go of her legs, turning her head towards Gray so fast that her neck cracked. “How did--”

“It’s alright. MacCready told me.”

Davy gritted her teeth and threw her head back in annoyance. “I’m gonna wring his scrawny neck.”

“Davy, if you touch him, I’m going to have to kill you.”

Davy smirked again, looking back to Gray through tear-streaked lashes. “You’ll have to catch me.”

Gray’s expression remained stony, and Davy sighed, exasperated. “Yeah, okay. Fine. I miss my dad. It’s whatever, alright?”

“I...uh...I know what you’re feeling.”

Davy looked incredulous, then smiled, rolling her eyes again and taking the cigarette back from behind her ear. “Alright. Okay. You got a light? I know you’ve always got one for Mac.”

“Are you ignoring me?”

“I am.” Davy tossed her hair over her shoulder and held her cigarette up. “Light?”

“No, what the fuck are you ignoring me for?”

Davy tilted her head to one side, an annoyed pout on her lips, unsure exactly how to tell Gray to kindly fuck off. She was almost intimidated by him--almost. The deep set lines of his face from four decades of being consistently pissed off, the scars that mangled one side, the near-permanent set of his eyebrows, seemingly always drawn downwards into a scowl; to the uninitiated, Gray could be intimidating, sure. But Davy had seen the man Gray became when he was around MacCready, and any intimidation he might have held over her was gone in an instant.

“Don’t take it personal. But this isn’t really something you could understand, so I’d rather just be left alone, alright?”

“You think I don’t understand?”

“Gray, come on. How the fuck could you possibly understand?” Davy slipped the cigarette back behind her ear and looked out at the horizon again. “Newsflash, old man. You’re like, fifty. You should have grandkids or something.”

“What, you think I was just hatched from a fucking egg somewhere, fully grown?”

Davy looked Gray over speculatively, and then shrugged. “You might’ve.”

“I never knew my mother, either,” Gray said harshly, ignoring her comment. “My father raised me. In Arizona.”

“That’s real fuckin’ neato,” Davy said, and her voice had dropped to a low, disinterested tone.

“You know the last time I ever talked to him?”

Davy shook her head. “Hard saying, not knowing.”

“He, uh, called me. Teresa answered it. Fucking loved Teresa, he talked to her for about an hour, asked her all this shit I never would have told him myself. ‘How’s Gray doing’, ‘does he like Boston’, ‘did he figure out what was wrong with the Mr. Handy’. And she answered him.” Gray started picking idly at the heel of his boot. “Both of them, they loved me more than I could have ever asked of anyone. And, you know, I was selfish. When Teresa handed me the phone, I, uh, I lied to him. Told him I was making plans to go to Arizona but I just hadn’t managed to settle on a date. Thanksgiving, probably. He knew I was lying. Always did. But he didn’t say anything. I wish he had.”

Davy watched the last tiny sliver of the sun disappear behind the hill, and shivered. “I don’t remember the last time I saw my dad. It was just like...one day, I was with him, the next, I wasn’t.” She shrugged. “I know that doesn’t sound great, but, we just...we just did everything together. And he...he’d always be there to tell me that everything was alright, and...it’s just...I can handle myself on my own but...sometimes, I don’t want to, you know?” She wiped her cheeks with the heel of her hand; fresh tears had sprung forward but she did nothing to prevent them.

Gray edged closer to her, his eyes cast low to the ground, and stiffly put an arm around her shoulders. “It’ll be okay, Davy.”

Davy smiled, closing her eyes and leaning into him, and for a moment, she could almost imagine that she was hugging her father again. “Thank you, Gray. I know.”


	2. Kiss Prompt #1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Davy)
> 
> Gray and Davy bond over shitty coffee.

Davy didn’t flinch when she felt Gray practically materialize out of the darkness behind her and drape an arm across her shoulder. Instead, she scowled and tightened her grip on the chipped mug of weak coffee she held in both hands.

“Something I can help you with, old man?”

“Not really, no.”

“Just felt like bothering me?”

“Of course.”

Without looking back at him, Davy stoically held the mug up to where she approximated Gray’s face to be, and he put a hand around her’s, guiding it to him as he took a small sip, and then frowned.

“You make this?”

“You got a problem with it?”

Gray’s nose wrinkled in disgust. “Tastes like brahmin shit.”

“Sorry we can’t all be the complete Boston housewife that Teresa was and make stellar coffee for our stupid ungrateful war hero, the incomparable Gray Walsh.”

Gray’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean that. I shouldn’t have said that. That was a little out of line. A lot out of line.” Davy craned her neck to look up at Gray.

“You think of me as a hero?”

Davy rolled her eyes. “Oh, my God. Shut up.”

“You look up to me, don’t you, Davy?”

“I’m gonna bust your head open with this mug.” Davy tried to squirm out of Gray’s hold, but he’d tightened his arm around her and was now holding her tight to his side, one corner of his mouth drawn up in a teasing smirk. “Come on, don’t you have  _ anything _ better to do?!”

“Careful, don’t drop your coffee,” Gray said, taking the mug from her with his free hand and taking a long draught from it, emptying it in one go.

“ _ Gray!  _ That was  _ mine _ ! _ ” _ Davy said, swiping at her mug, but Gray held it just out of reach. “Ugh, I hate you, you’re such a prick,” she snapped, finally shoving herself free and grabbing the mug, glaring petulantly at the dregs that remained. “Coffee grounds are  _ not! Easy! To come by!”  _ she said, punctuating each word with a swing of her fist, missing each time and finally settling on throwing the mug at Gray, which connected solidly with the top of his head with a hollow  _ chunk _ . “Oh, fuck,” she said, stifling a giggle when he dropped on his ass, one hand clamped firmly over the bruise that was no doubt already forming.

“Your old man never taught you how to punch, huh? You have to throw shit to get your point across?” Gray muttered, scowling when Davy squatted next to him.

“Maybe you’ll learn not to take things that don’t belong to you. Now let me see.” She gingerly lifted his hand, and her eyes went round. “Oh, God,” she said, putting a hand to her mouth.

“What?”

“Oh, my bad, sorry, that’s just your face.”

“You’re going to kick me while I’m down?” Gray narrowed his eyes at her as he lightly touched the bruise. “You know this is going to make shaving a fucking nightmare.”

“So let it grow, then.” Davy sat back and tilted her head to one side, trying to picture Gray with longer hair.

“I’d rather die.”

“God, you’re so dramatic.” Davy stood up, extending her hand to Gray, who ignored it and helped himself up while Davy rolled her eyes. “Dramatic  _ and _ arrogant. I’ll never know what MacCready sees in you.”

“You must have some idea, seeing as I’m your hero and all.”

“I’ll kill you,” Davy said seriously, stepping closer, jabbing a finger at Gray’s chest. “I would never--”

“It’s alright,” Gray said, his voice suddenly softer, sweeping her up in a hug, wrapping his arms around her slim shoulders and kissing her gently on the forehead, cutting her off completely in surprise. “I won’t tell anyone.”

Davy ground her teeth, and then timidly put her arms around Gray’s waist, resting her head against his chest and letting out a quiet, resigned sigh. “Yeah. Okay.”


	3. Kiss Prompt #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Zoe)
> 
> Richter pranks Gray into visiting the director of the Institute.

Zoe Bhatia always made Gray uneasy. He’d never liked Shaun, but there was an implied level of respect between them. He’d stuck up for Shaun, turned his back on the Commonwealth for the little shit...but now he was gone, and in his place was a woman who owed him nothing. And that was terrifying.

“Been a while since I’ve seen you around here,” she said, smiling lightly, and Gray shuffled uncomfortably, staring down at the floor as he approached.

“Haven’t had a reason to come back in a while,” he muttered. He was vividly aware of the contrast between the two of them; her clothes were clean, dry, her hair evenly trimmed and washed...while his mud-caked boots had tracked dark footprints across the floor, a heavy odor of dirt and gunpowder clung to him, and he frantically tried to remember the last time he’d at least fallen in the river or gotten caught in the rain.

“What  _ are  _ you here for?”

Gray looked up timidly at Zoe. “Richter sent me. He said you needed to speak to me personally.”

Zoe considered briefly. Typical of Richter to send Gray into the lion’s den just for laughs; she couldn’t remember ever needing or really wanting to speak to the mercenary. But she had to admit, she did like making him squirm. “Hm...that’s right. There’s a bit of a problem with your bunker at Starlight.”

Gray raised an eyebrow before he could stop himself. “What--what’s the problem?”

Zoe tapped one finger on her chin, looking speculative. “Well, I  _ don’t know, _ Grayson, why don’t you tell me?”

“I, uh…” Gray winced. “I...guess you’re probably talking about the Brotherhood patrols that lodge at Eva’s tavern.”

A look of surprise crossed Zoe’s face before she could stop herself, but fortunately Gray was looking down at the floor in shame.  _ Brotherhood patrols?  _ That wasn’t something she’d expected, even from him. Quickly regaining composure, she tilted her head to one side, genuine irritation leaking into her voice as she spoke. “And how long did you plan to let that go on?”

“It wasn’t me, I--”

“It was happening in  _ your  _ settlement, it was happening under  _ your  _ supervision. I’m not going to stand for you throwing someone else under the bus to save your own hide.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Gray said, averting his eyes again.

“You have a week to put an end to it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Zoe waited a minute, watching Gray fidget uncomfortably, before she cleared her throat, making him look up hesitantly. She had to bite back a grin that was threatening to spread as she wondered just how far she could push Gray. She held out one hand, knuckles up, and then looked at him expectantly.  _ He won’t, he’s too-- _ she thought, but was cut off abruptly, her eyes widening in amused shock as he took her hand, almost dainty looking in the thick black leather of his gloves. He growled under his breath, his upper lip curling in annoyance before he bent his head and softly kissed her knuckles, before stepping back, humiliation coloring his weather-beaten cheeks.

“Is there anything else you wanted from me?” he spat, refusing to look her in the eye.

Zoe suppressed a smirk by biting down hard on her bottom lip, and shook her head. “Nothing. I’ll see you in a week.”

Gray scowled and turned on his heel, already fiddling with his pipboy before he’d even left the room.

Finally allowing her composure to crack, she let out a chuckle as she turned to the synth flanking her left. “Remind me to thank Richter, he always knows how to cheer me up.”


	4. Captured

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Adam)
> 
> A bounty is put on the Minuteman general's head, and Gray and MacCready intend to collect.

“Minuteman general? Why? What’s so important about him?” Gray asked, only catching a glimpse of the bounty notice before MacCready snatched it out of his hand. 

“I mean, outside of the fact that he’s the general of the Minutemen,” MacCready muttered, and Gray responded with a cuff on the back of his head, sending his hat flying to the floor. Scowling, MacCready slapped the paper down on the table and went after his hat, but not before landing a solid punch to Gray’s kidney.

“Are you two done?” the man across from them asked, and Gray glared at MacCready when he sat back down.

“Yeah, fine. Why do you want this guy so bad?” Gray said, returning his attention to the bounty notice, rubbing his jaw with the heel of his palm. “What’s he done to you?”

“Unimportant. Can you two bring him to me? Alive?”

“Does he have to be alive?” MacCready said, obvious annoyance leaking into his voice.

“Yes,” the man answered sharply. “Alive, or there will be consequences.”

“Geez, no need to be so dramatic,” MacCready muttered. “ _ Alive, or there will be consequences. _ Whatever. What are we getting paid?”

Gray folded the notice into fourths and tucked it into the pocket of his bandolier. “And what can you tell us about him?” 

“He has a reputation for putting others before himself. He’ll go without food or rest for days at a time without even realizing it. He--”

“Great, sounds like he’s done our work for us.” Gray stood up. “We’ll handle it from here. Come on, kid.”

“Wait, what about the caps?” MacCready said, standing firm.

“Ten thousand. Payment on delivery.”

MacCready clasped his hands together and grinned. “Pleasure doing business with you, sir.”

 

***

 

“You sure this is gonna work?” MacCready asked, checking that his gun was loaded one last time.

Gray shook his head. “Not really. But ten thousand caps is a lot of money, and we’ve been shot over a lot less.” He checked his shotgun once before slinging it over his back, then drew the 10mm MacCready had loaned him from his belt. “You’re sure Lee is here, right?”

“Have I been wrong before?”

“You shot me in the heart at nearly point blank range.”

MacCready furrowed his brow. “Hey, asshole, I knew who I was shooting at and I didn’t miss, so try again. Anyway, I saw him here last night when I was doing recon and  _ you  _ were burning our dinner, so shut up and saddle up. You ready to go?”

“Yeah. Come on.” Gray holstered the 10mm, then linked his hands together and held them out as a step for MacCready, who flung his rifle over his back and stepped up into the tree they were taking cover under. “If this goes south, you kill him and I’ll make a break for it, alright?”

“How about I save everyone some trouble and just shoot you?”

Gray grabbed MacCready by the ankle and yanked, dropping the young mercenary to the ground with a heavy  _ thump.  _ “And how about I kick your ass right here?”

“Always thinking of my ass, can’t you ever focus on the job for at least a few minutes?”

“Get in the fucking tree.”

MacCready slung his rifle over his shoulder and climbed onto Gray’s back, stopping once to hug him around his neck and kiss him lightly on the cheek, and then continuing on, stepping on his shoulders and disappearing into the foliage overhead.

“Let me know when you have a good vantage point.” Gray picked uneasily at the bark on the tree. “And make sure you’re completely hidden. Don’t fire a shot until you have to.”

“I know what I’m doing,” MacCready called down.

“I know, but…” Gray’s voice trailed off. 

“You worry, don’t you?”

“You’re damn skippy I do. Are you ready?”

“I think so.”

Gray pointed out two settlers that were approaching the water pump on the outskirts of Lee’s settlement, not a hundred feet from the brush they had taken cover under. One of them was gesturing casually as he spoke, while the other followed by with an empty bucket, listening intently. “These two. Wait for my mark.”

“Wait, wait.” MacCready looked down from his perch. “Be careful, okay? Ten thousand caps is a lot of money to spend by myself.”

“I’ll do what I can. Ready? And... _ go.” _

Gray sprinted from the brush they’d been hiding in, handgun drawn, while MacCready tracked him carefully from above.

“Hands up! Hands up, now, where I can see them!” Gray shouted, startling the woman with the bucket, who dropped it with a loud  _ clang  _ and put her hands up immediately. The other shrunk back, turning to run, but Gray swung his gun around to face him, stopping him in his tracks.

“What do you want?” the woman asked, fighting to keep her voice even, looking for a moment like she was going to make a move to steal Gray’s shotgun off his back, until he spotted her out of the corner of his eye and drew the shotgun, keeping it trained on her, the handgun on her partner.

“I’m looking for a man named Lee, I assume you’ve heard of him,” Gray said, motioning for the man to step closer, who shakingly obliged, and in one swift movement, Gray slung his shotgun over his shoulder once more and swept the man into a headlock, keeping the barrel of the 10mm pressed into his neck. “Go find him, bring him here, and he had better be alone, or…” Gray cocked the gun for emphasis, and the woman ground her teeth.

“You think I’m dumb enough to believe you won’t kill Adam  _ and _ Terry? Please.”

“Ana--just go, please,” Terry said. Sweat was pouring off him, and Gray held him tighter.

“I’m not a patient man, Ana. And one more thing--” Gray pulled Terry’s hat off with his free hand and tossed it straight up in the air, where MacCready, still sitting in his perch, rolled his eyes and fired a single shot through it, making both Terry and Ana jump when it fell to the ground. “I’ve got backup, so don’t even think about trying anything, or they both  _ will  _ be dead, you along with them.”

Ana shot Gray a hate-filled glare before sprinting off to find Lee.

“That was, uh, pretty cool,” Terry said after a minute of uncomfortable silence and gesturing towards his hat with his chin.

“Shut up,” Gray responded. He was tempted to look back at MacCready, he needed to know that he was safe, but to look back would be to give away his position, and while logic told him that MacCready was fine, his blood was still boiling at the idea that there was a chance he  _ wasn’t _ fine.

“...just some guy, I don’t know who he is, I thought he might be with the Brotherhood but I think he’s a mercenary…”

Gray’s head snapped up; Ana was returning, with Adam in tow. Perfect. Surprisingly, his plan was going off without a hitch.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Adam said as he approached, his hands held up defensively in front of him. “Just let Terry go. You’re here for me, right?”

“I sure am,” Gray said, motioning to Ana. “Get out of here.”

Ana bared her teeth and looked like she was about to lunge at Gray, but Adam held out a hand to stop her.

“I’ll handle it,” Adam said. “Do what he asks. Terry will be fine.”

Furious, Ana spun on her heel and stormed back to the settlement, leaving Adam to eye Terry’s hat curiously.

“He’s got a sniper,” Terry said, answering Adam’s unspoken question, and Gray squeezed tighter.

“Why the fuck can’t you just be a good sport, Terry?” Gray rolled his eyes before throwing Terry to the ground, and then turning his gun to Adam, who put his hands up again. “Yeah, I got a sniper, and he’s got his scope on your guy here. So turn your ass around, hands behind your back. You, don’t move,” Gray snapped, turning his attention momentarily back to Terry, who scrambled into a sitting position and stayed there. He sighed, exchanging his gun for a pair of handcuffs from his belt and noting the position of the sun as he cuffed Adam’s hands roughly behind his back. They hadn’t made good time at all. It was going to be late before they got back to Diamond City, if at all. They were probably going to have to bunker down at Starlight for the night and just travel in the morning.

“You understand that I’m trading my compliance for his life, of course,” Adam said, interrupting Gray’s thoughts and wincing as Gray tightened the cuffs.

“Hell of a time to be making demands,” Gray said, taking Adam by the elbow and tugging. “Back around, face me.” He took an explosive collar from the big pocket of his bandolier, and Adam recoiled. 

“You’re not collaring me.”

“No?” Gray looked down at Terry, drawing his 10mm again. “Sorry, then, looks like your general’s compliance only goes so far.”

“ _ Don’t!” _ Adam cried, stepping forward, between Gray and Terry. “Alright--alright. Fine. Collar me. Fine. Just let him go.”

Gray smirked. “Get out of here,” he said, and Terry got up and made a mad dash for the safety of his home without a word. “Your life for that guy’s, huh?”

“I’d do the same for any of my people,” Adam said, jutting his chin out, allowing Gray to clamp the collar firmly around his neck.

“Uh huh. That’s very touching. Now get moving, we’ve got a lot of ground to cover before that asshole grows a spine and comes running back here with the calvary.”

 

***

 

“You live here?” Adam said, grimacing at the condition of Gray’s bunker as he was ushered through the heavy metal door that walled it off from the rest of the settlement. He’d heard of this place before, but he’d always assumed it had been built by raiders, or...something. The best word he could think to describe it was “trash pile”, and the small corner of it that Gray and MacCready--he’d quickly learned the names of his captors, they hadn’t been very careful--lived in seemed to be that trash pile’s trash pile. 

MacCready dropped his rifle onto the ground next to a heap of sleeping bags arranged by the fire pit, and then collapsed unceremoniously beside it, tossing logs and paper scraps into the pit. “We sure do, you got a problem with that?”

“It’s disgusting,” Adam admitted, keeping close to the immense scrap heap by the door of the old projector building. There seemed to be a work bench buried under there, and no doubt if he could get close enough he could pick up a bobby pin or a broken spring or  _ something... _ if those two would just look away for just a few seconds he could grab something and set to work on his cuffs…

“You’ve got a lot of balls for a guy who’s got an explosive wrapped around his neck,” MacCready said snidely, taking a bottle of warm beer from a crate by the fire and twisting the top off, throwing the cap into a box behind him. Adam cocked his head to one side and noted the numerous empties scattered around the fireplace, along with the shards of broken glass--they were drinkers. Heavy drinkers.

Gray let out a groan as he sat down next to MacCready, taking the beer from his hand and draining half of it in one draught before passing it back. “You may as well sit down and get comfortable, you’re gonna be here all night.”

“Can’t at least take the cuffs off?” Adam asked, edging closer to the fire pit.

“Come on. What do you think?” Gray held one hand out to MacCready, who passed him a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket. He fished a match out and passed the pack back to MacCready, and then tapped the long scar that ravaged one side of his face. “I’ve made that mistake before. Not making it again.”

“I thought you got your ass beat for not knowing when to shut up,” MacCready said, leaning forward and rearranging the fire while Gray attempted to light it from the other side.

“Sounds like you want one to match.”

MacCready grinned and sat back as Gray blew on the embers the match had made. 

“Alright, look, I’m sorry about the cuffs, and the collar, but you know how it is. Can’t be too careful these days. But let me at least get you a beer,” Gray said, standing up. 

“I guess I like the sound of that.” 

“And I guess I can at least rearrange your arms. Kid, come here and take his other arm.” He stepped closer and hitched one hand under Adam’s arm while MacCready went to his other side and did the same, and Adam stepped over the chain between his wrists, bringing his hands around to his front.

“Couldn’t have just taken them off and put them back on?” Adam asked, rubbing his wrists.

“And show you where the key is? Sure,” Gray said, sitting back down next to MacCready and passing a beer over the fire to Adam, who sat down on the concrete, twisting the cap off and tossing it to MacCready. He frowned as he took a sip of the unpleasantly warm beer. Gray was a bit quicker than he let on. Oh well. It didn’t matter--the night was still young. 

“So--mercenaries, huh? Who’s after me this time?” Adam said.

Gray shrugged. “Hard saying, not knowing. And listen--you seem like a decent guy. Damn shame it had to go this way. But you know how it is. I have to feed this one.” He tousled MacCready’s hair, who scowled and slapped him away.

Adam tipped more of his beer down his throat. He  _ did  _ know how it was. Being the general of the Minutemen meant he was walking around with a target on his back, and he was more than happy to bear it if it meant that he kept targets off the backs of the people he was protecting. He couldn’t hold it against Gray, either--MacCready was thin, distressingly thin, and while he wasn’t entirely sure of the nature of their relationship, it was obvious that Gray was worried for him. As much as he hated to admit it, Adam was no doubt a high value target. Someone had offered these two a lot of money for his head, and they’d been desperate enough to take it.

“Did they at least give you an ultimatum? Dead or alive, alive, unhurt?” Adam said.

MacCready opened a second bottle, letting his first roll over the concrete to collect with the many others there. “They wanted you alive, they were pretty adamant about that.”

_Alive?_ _Hm_ , Adam thought. Whoever wanted him was already paying these two to get him, so they weren’t looking for a ransom. No, they were probably planning on leaving him in a gutter somewhere with a bullet in his head...and the last his settlers would have ever seen of him would have been with these two, a pint-sized mercenary and his short tempered...bodyguard? _Maybe not,_ he thought as Gray threw his arm across MacCready’s shoulders, and MacCready responded by burrowing closer. 

“So how’d you two end up together?” Adam asked, hoping to lighten the mood. 

“Found him in a bar, begging for scraps,” Gray said simply, and MacCready seemed too tired to dispute it. He was already staring blankly into his drink, which Gray took from him and set down on the ground in front of him. “You alright?”

MacCready shook his head, then tiredly scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’m beat.”

“Go to bed, then. I’ll be in later.”

“You’re gonna just leave him out here?” MacCready rearranged himself so that his head was resting on Gray’s stomach, one arm wrapped around his waist. “We’ll stay out here.”

Adam frowned. They weren’t giving him a lot of opportunities to escape. 

Gray tugged one of the sleeping bags out from under himself and MacCready and draped it around himself, making sure to cover MacCready, before picking up MacCready’s discarded beer and draining it. “Let me get you another,” he said, pulling the crate closer and passing one off to Adam, who scooted closer and took it in both hands.

“Here,” Gray said, taking it back and opening it. “Sorry.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” Adam took it again and took a long draught from it. He was about to set the bottle down and say something again, but when he looked up, he saw that Gray was absorbed entirely in stroking MacCready’s hair, brushing the loose strands off his face while MacCready’s breathing slowed and his body fell slack. Embarrassed, Adam buried himself in his drink--even though he was Gray’s prisoner, even though he wanted to be here about as badly as he wanted to go hand to hand with a radscorpion, he still felt like he was intruding. 

“Need another?” Gray asked before Adam had even set his empty down. He was already opening two more, and Adam took it gratefully. He wasn’t sure if he’d be able to drink Gray under the table--something told him that it was probably unlikely, Gray was a lot bigger than him and he seemed to have a lot more practice under his belt--so he would instead have to take it slow.

“You know, I don’t know what you’re being paid, but--” Adam started, but Gray cut him off with a hard glare.

“I was just starting to like you, you know.” Gray stretched his legs out in front of him, making sure not to dislodge MacCready, who, Adam noticed with some surprise, was already asleep. “Don’t try and talk me into going straight, I’ve already had every offer a man can get. But I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told the others--loyalty’s worth a lot more than caps, and in my line of work, it’s worth killing over. So I’m not interested in letting you go in exchange for a nice shack on a farm, shoveling brahmin shit and bandaging his hands every night from tending those plants only to watch him take a bullet when whoever we thought we could get away with ripping off catches up to us.”

Adam held his hands up, palms up. “Apologies. I wasn’t trying to save my own hide. I just thought--”

“Yeah, you can take your  _ I just thought  _ and cram it up your ass, alright?”

Adam was silent as Gray knocked back his entire bottle in one go. “You care about him a lot. I thought maybe you’d want--”

“Hey, don’t tell me what I want.” Gray tossed his empty bottle aside, where it clattered against the concrete and MacCready grunted and shifted in his sleep. “Ah, fuck--no, come on, go back to sleep…”

Adam remained silent, nursing his beer. Gray was getting agitated--he hadn’t even thought for a second that getting Gray drunk could backfire violently.

“Sorry,” Gray said, looking back to Adam and running a hand through his hair. “I...I just love him, so much, I want to do anything I can for him. I’d die for him.” He tenderly ran a hand over MacCready’s shoulder, and Adam could tell that he meant it.

“I understand that,” Adam said, and he meant it as well. “I don’t hold this--” He gestured loosely at himself. “--against you. You do what you have to for the ones you love. I’d do the same thing for my settlers.”

Gray smiled for the first time, and Adam raised his eyebrows at the stark difference it made. “You’re alright, you know that?”

“I’ll drink to that,” Adam said, raising his beer.

 

***

 

“Hm…” MacCready came slowly out of sleep, dimly aware of Gray’s body slumped beneath him. “Wake up, sleepy head,” he murmured, but kept his eyes closed and made no effort to move.

Gray muttered to himself as he stretched his legs, moving to stretch his arms next--but stopped short.

“Oh, fuck. I think we might have dropped the ball on this one, kid.” 

MacCready grunted and tried to sit up, but found that he couldn’t. “Did we--did we do this?” he asked, pulling at his handcuffs, which were threaded through Gray’s arms--also, he noticed, handcuffed behind him, and the collar that had been on Adam the night before was now firmly clamped around Gray’s neck.

“Probably not,” Gray said, rolling his eyes and dragging a scrap of paper that had been left in front of them closer with his foot.

 

_ Gray: _

_ You seem like a good person, if not a little misguided. I’d be more than happy to welcome you and your partner into the Minutemen.  _

_ All that aside, I’m afraid as good as a person I think you have the potential to be, I can’t walk to my death just so the two of you can eat for another week. If we do cross paths again, though, I hope we can put this behind us over another beer. _

 

_ \--Adam _

 

“Well, fuck,” Gray said, kicking aside the note. “Looks like you’re gonna have to sell me after all in order to afford that pony.”

MacCready scoffed. “You  _ are _ arrogant if you think I can sell you for enough to get a pony.”


	5. Kiss Prompt #3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Chiv)
> 
> MacCready puts Gray and Chiv to the test.

“What do you mean, you  _ don’t know?” _ Gray asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing his arms.

MacCready looked between Gray and Chiv. “I--uuuh--”

Chiv shot Gray a disgusted look. “You have to think about it?”

“Well--I mean--” MacCready nervously readjusted his hat. “I mean--you’re--you’re both good, for...you know, different reasons, and...I mean...you can’t really compare, I--”

Gray scowled, letting his arms fall to his sides. “You have to pick.”

“I’m not sure that I do, actually,” MacCready said, setting his mouth in a hard line and shaking his head.

Chiv smirked and punched Gray lightly on the shoulder. “Let’s be realistic, Gray, you’re like, what, fifty?”

“And you’re, what, nine?” Gray said coldly, narrowing his eyes at Chiv. “What’s your point?”

“Come on.” Chiv’s smirk grew into a broad grin. “ _ Come on. _ You’re past your prime, dude. Mac’s not gonna say it to your face.”

Gray’s brow creased in irritation. “That’s forty-nine more years of experience you’ve got,  _ kid, _ ” he said, poking Chiv hard in the chest, whose smile dropped from his face; he stepped forward, throwing his fists up and gritting his teeth.

“You want to  _ fucking go _ , old man?”

“Hey, alright, alright, alright, I know what we’re gonna do,” MacCready said, stepping in between them, a hand on either of their chests, holding them apart. “Alright, here’s how we’re gonna decide. The two of you, right here, I want to see you kiss and make up. And that’s how we’ll decide who’s a better kisser. Two birds, one stone.” MacCready beamed, looking exceptionally proud of himself, while Gray and Chiv glared at each other.

“Fine,” Gray spat, but remained still.

“Come on, then, what are you waiting for?”

Gray shook his head. “I’m waiting for you to kiss me.”

“No way. You kiss me first.”

“Not happening.”

Chiv sighed, then looked to MacCready, who nodded eagerly and gave him a thumbs up. “Look, I’m not--”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Gray said, crossing the distance between them in two short strides, putting one hand around the back of Chiv’s neck and yanking him forward; their mouths crashing together with a painful  _ chunk _ as their teeth met.

“Ow, ow, ow, fuck,” Chiv muttered, wrinkling his nose and trying to pull away, but Gray fisted a hand into his hair, holding him close, swallowing the pained grunts escaping Chiv’s lips.

“You’re losing, Chiv,” MacCready said coyly, and Chiv groaned in irritation before clamping one hand tightly around Gray’s neck, making the older man break away momentarily, gasping for breath.

“Give in yet?” Chiv asked, but Gray scowled.

“Fuck, no,” he said, his voice only a throaty whisper, pulling Chiv back in. He moaned softly against Chiv’s mouth, making Chiv snarl and kiss Gray deeper, holding him tighter.

MacCready cleared his throat. “Alright, guys, at this rate you’re just gonna end up hate-fucking each other. Come on, get off.”

With a gasp, Chiv shoved Gray off, leaving both of them breathing heavily, their shoulders rising and falling dramatically as they fought to catch their breath, staring the other down.

“So who wins?” Gray asked, running the back of his hand over his mouth and spitting without tearing his gaze from Chiv, who gave him yet another disgusted look.

MacCready paused, looking between the two of them, before throwing his hands up and walking the other direction without a word.


	6. Kiss Prompt #4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Shark)
> 
> MacCready dares Gray to kiss an intriguing stranger.

“You won’t kiss that guy.”

“You think I fucking won’t?” Gray snapped, sizing up the guy leaned casually against the wall. He was taking a long drag of jet and answering a question neither Gray or MacCready heard with a shrug; his arms were heavily tattooed, he had a lot of piercings, sure, but did MacCready really peg him for that much of a square? Gray rolled his eyes and took another shot. “Yeah, I’ll kiss him, ain’t nothing fucking to it. Wait here.”

MacCready dug into his pockets and turned out a handful of caps, a crumpled paper packet with three cigarettes of varying length, and seven bullets, piling them in a heap on the table. “Double or nothing. And throw in a box of snack cakes.”

“You got yourself a deal, you little shit,” Gray said after quickly counting out the bullets. He squared his shoulders and went confidently towards the tattooed guy, who only just seemed to notice Gray approaching. Curiously, he watched Gray until his motives were clear. The guy let his arms drop to his sides, he hitched his thumbs in his pockets expectantly, and let a huge grin spread over his face, revealing two sets of gleaming, shark-like teeth, making Gary stop dead in his tracks.

“ _ What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck, _ ” Gray muttered, his eyes wide, his feet refusing to step any closer.

“You looking for a smooch, big guy?” The tattooed guy smiled even wider, and his friend snickered.

“Freaked him out, I think, Shark.”

“Don’t think I’m pretty no more?” Shark stuck his tongue between his teeth, revealing it to be bisected, making Gray stumble back yet again, much to the amusement of Shark and his friends.

“Aw, come on. I’ll try and stop when I’ve drawn blood,” Shark said, flicking his tongue in a distinctively lizard-like way. Gray’s eyes darted back to MacCready, who was busily making a show of tucking the bullets back in his jacket.

Gray scowled. “Alright, fine, come here,” he snapped, taking Shark roughly by the jaw and pulling him close. He hesitated once, wrinkling his nose when Shark’s teeth were inches from his face. 

“Second thoughts?” Shark said, snarling and snapping his teeth, laughing when Gray jumped.

Without answering, Gray pulled Shark the remaining distance, tentatively pressing his lips to Shark’s, who returned it, surprising Gray with just how gentle it was--until he snarled again, closing his teeth over Gray’s bottom lip, who cried out and shoved Shark off, angrily running his hand over his face and spitting a mouthful of blood out on the floor.

“You know how it is with sharks,” Shark said, laughing again and shrugging. “Can’t control themselves once they’ve got that first taste of blood.”

Fuming, Gray turned on his heel and went back to MacCready, holding his hand out expectantly. “You knew he had teeth.”

MacCready deposited the bullets, the cigarettes, and the caps in Gray’s hand sheepishly. “I might have.”

“Ten more caps, you fuckin’ prick.”

“Uh…” MacCready patted his pockets theatrically. “I’m a little short right now.”

Gray seized MacCready by the front of his shirt and yanked him close. “Then get upstairs,” he growled, directly in MacCready’s ear, who blushed a deep shade of red and readjusted his hat before scrambling out of his seat and darting away. He didn’t need to be told twice.


	7. Kiss Prompt #5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Dread)
> 
> Gray and Dread celebrate New Year's Eve.

“How much have you had to drink?”

“Fucked if I know.”

Dread held out the bottle of moonshine by its neck and swirled the contents. “Looks like a whole hell of a lot, buddy. You ought to slow down.”

“You ought to shut the fuck up,” Gray said, his voice slurring and his shoulders slumping as he shook his head like a horse with flies. “I’ll slow down when I damn well choose to.”

“Alright, come on. You’re not even gonna make it to New Year’s.”

Gray shrugged Dread’s hand off his shoulder and stood up, stumbling once before throwing a hand out to brace himself against the wall. “You’re lucky there’s two of you or I’d kick your fuckin’ ass.”

“Are you kidding me right now?” Dread stood up, and Gray swiped the bottle from his hand.

“Yeah, I’m fucking kidding you, you think I can’t hold a few shots of moonshine? Fuck out of here.” Gray tipped the bottle up, drinking almost a third of it before Dread snatched it back again.

“You really want me to have to drag your dead body back to my brother and tell him you drank yourself to death, don’t you?”

“You  _ worry, _ God, what is it with you two?” Gray rolled his eyes and staggered towards the window to look out at the moon. “You think it’s midnight yet?”

“I really have no idea, my watch stopped ages ago.”

Gray crossed his arms and appraised the moon for a long moment. “It’s probably midnight, yeah.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah, has to be. Alright, you have to kiss me.”

Dread frowned, his nose wrinkling in revulsion. “What?”

“It’s midnight, those are the rules.”

“What  _ rules _ ?”

“Look, Dread, come on, you know. At New Year’s. That’s just what you do.”

“That’s what you and my little brother do.”

“Alright, now I’m definitely going to kick your ass.”

Dread crossed his arms. “Don’t even start, man, come on, you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“Gonna hurt your punk ass.”

“Jesus.” Dread scowled, capping the bottle and tossing it aside. “You’re an embarrassment, man, I-- _ Gray, what the fuck?! _ ” he snapped, trying to shove Gray off him, who had wrapped one thick arm around Dread’s neck, pulling his face towards him and kissing him full on the mouth before stumbling back, his brow furrowed. Dread glared at him. “ _ What? _ ”

“You kiss like your brother, man.”

“Great, now I have to kill you.”


	8. Kiss Prompt #6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Gray/Max)
> 
> I did not get Max's character 100% right here. But...next time.

“Tired?”

Gray ran a hand over his mouth and spat blood on the ground before throwing his hands back up, squaring his feet and staring down the Railroad heavy who still hadn’t broken a sweat. “Fuck, no.”

Max couldn’t fathom why Gray would challenge him to a fight. He was faster, he was taller, he was a hell of a lot younger...maybe Gray was stronger, but that didn’t do him a lot of good when he couldn’t land a single punch. It didn’t help that Gray wasn’t trained in actual hand-to-hand combat, either, just boxing, and it showed.

“You’re getting too old for this,” Max said, stepping forward quickly and barreling his fist into Gray’s stomach, making the older man cry out and clutch at his midsection, dropping to the ground, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. He stood over Gray, waiting for him to make a move, to get up, to snap back with a witty retort--anything, really, but instead he remained on his knees, trying in vain to catch his breath.

Max tilted his head to one side curiously as he regarded Gray.  _ You killed him, _ he heard, accompanied by a short, childish giggle, though whether it was in his mind or not, he wasn’t sure. “No I didn’t,” he mumbled, and Gray made an inquisitive grunt without looking up.  _ Not yet. But he’s bleeding. Inside.  _ Max’s eyes grew round.  _ Inside? _

__ As if to answer his question, Gray coughed; a deep, rattling sound, and then spat into the dirt again.

_ Dying? _

“Do you...need help?” Max asked, raising an eyebrow and leaning back cautiously. He hadn’t known Gray for long, but a man that couldn’t fight didn’t make it to Gray’s age through sheer luck alone. Gray was a dirty fighter, he could see that written plainly on his face.

“Don’t touch me.” Gray’s voice was raspy, and he tightened his arms around his middle.

_ Look what you did, Max.  _ Laughter again.  _ Dead, dead, dead, dead, everything you touch turns to death-- _

Max clapped his hands over his ears to drown out the singsong voice. “Stop it,” he muttered, before turning back to Gray. “Just...give me your hand.”

Gray shook his head and said nothing.

Frowning, Max put one hand on Gray’s shoulder and shoved him back, startling him; he windmilled one arm, scrabbling to support himself before he fell, but Max snatched his wrist and heaved him to his feet, ducking under Gray’s arm and draping it over his back.

“Where are we going?” Gray’s voice was losing the harsh edge it usually had. “Max--leave me alone--”

“No,” Max said firmly, and left it at that.

“Let me go, please--”

Max gritted his teeth and felt his fingers digging deeper into Gray’s arm.  _ Idiot bastard old man doesn’t know what’s good for him.  _ He resisted the urge to spit on the ground in irritation.  _ Let him die, then. It’s what he deserves. _ His expression softened slightly when he glanced over at Gray, who’s face had gone slack, intermittent with spasms of pain as he fought for each breath.  _ He’s scared. He doesn’t want to die.  _ Max groaned under Gray’s weight as his mind was transported back to his youth, when his sister had brought him a small kitten that was struggling for breath much like Gray was now.

_ She got hit by a car, you have to save her, Max. _

_ I--I don’t know that I can-- _

_ Max, please, you have to-- _

_ Please, Max-- _

_ You have to-- _

_ Max-- _

The kitten had died, and Max had buried her in shame while his sisters wept. But it would be different this time. Things had changed. 

Gray’s feet were beginning to drag, and Max looked around frantically for any sort of cover. Wherever they landed, they’d be there for a while, and it needed to be safe, free from scorpions and raiders and molerats--

A boxcar, tipped on its side, half buried in the muddy dirt, almost invisible under the melting snow, caught Max’s eye.  _ Perfect. _ He dragged Gray, who had become nothing but dead weight, through the rusted door frame, throwing his weight against the door to pull it partially closed behind them. Enough to keep out the elements, enough to hide the fire that would soon be lit deep within.

 

***

 

Without a word, Max set a bowl of hot broth in front of Gray, who looked down at it skeptically.

“What is this?”

“Radstag,” Max said, turning his back to Gray, and ripping open an empty RadAway pouch with his teeth.

Gray set his jaw. “No, what  _ is  _ this? What are you doing?”

Max shrugged, his back hunched, still facing away from Gray.  _ What  _ are  _ you doing?  _

“I asked you a question.” The strength was returning to Gray’s voice, not that it really meant anything. He could still be bleeding, and Max would have no way of knowing until Gray dropped dead.

_ Good riddance _ , Max thought, but again found himself confronted with the mental image of his youngest sister, holding that pathetic kitten out in her tiny hands, crying and begging  _ please save her Max you have to save her don’t let her die-- _

“Gah, fine,” Max muttered, turning around. “Saving your life,” he said simply, pushing the bowl closer to Gray and returning to his work. “Drink.”

Gray watched Max warily before picking the bowl up and taking an experimental sniff, then narrowing his eyes. “Doesn’t smell like radstag. What else is in here?”

Without looking up, Max held up a gnarled brown root between his fingers before taking it between his teeth and biting off a sizable chunk.

“Hm.” Gray swirled the contents carefully, then took a sip, sputtering and coughing loudly as soon as it hit his tongue, making Max finally look up, his eyes blazing with irritation. 

“That’s my mother’s recipe and if you waste it I’ll flay you alive,” Max spat. “It’ll make you feel better, just  _ drink it. _ ”

Scowling, Gray took a long draught from it, then set it down. “Where are we?”

“Safe.”

“Fine. I’m leaving.”

Max glared. “No.”

“I didn’t ask you to help me. I can take care of myself.”

A bright pink shotgun that Gray hadn’t noticed lying nearby was in Max’s hands so fast that Gray almost had to do a double take. Max looked up at Gray, his expression hardened.

“Are you taking me prisoner or are you saving my life?”

“That’s for you to decide,” Max said stonily.

Gray leaned back against the wall of the boxcar, picking up his bowl and taking another draught from it. “And what do you plan to do with me when you’ve finished whatever sick game you’re playing here?”

Max shrugged again. Had he thought of that yet?

“The Railroad doesn’t like me taking jobs for the Institute. I’ve been fucking up your operations for a while now. They don’t know where you are, otherwise I’d be tied to a chair and facing Desdemona right now. Am I right?”

Max bit his lip, finally forcing himself to look up at Gray. He’d been fine right up until he said  _ I’d be tied to a chair _ . Now  _ there _ was a visual. Max could feel his fingers itching, tempted to leap for Gray’s throat, to feel the steady thud of his pulse under his thumb, to feel the heat of Gray’s breath against his own neck--

“I thought so,” Gray said, smug, completely misreading Max’s sudden fidgeting, his stunned silence. “So I’m gonna ask you again. What do you want with me?”

Max swallowed, hard.  _ I want to hurt you. I want to hold you by the throat and feel your dick against my thigh and-- _

“ _ Answer me.” _

Max shook his head.

“Answer me or I’m leaving, and I’ll take my chances against your cute little gun.”

Snarling, Max’s grip tightened on his gun.  _ Daisy. _

“Time’s up. I’m leaving.” Gray made a move to stand, but in an instant, Max had rammed the barrel of his gun against Gray’s throat, who sputtered and growled, reeling backwards, but Max stood his ground, keeping the gun trained on Gray’s neck. He pressed down harder on it, the sound of Gray’s strained breathing doing unspeakable things to his libido.

“Make a move, then,” Gray rasped through gritted teeth. “Kill me, then. Do it, you coward.”

Max’s finger tightened around the trigger, and Gray winced--just barely, but Max had seen.

“Go on,” Gray said, his voice cracking slightly. 

_ Scared. He’s scared.  _ Max pressed closer, his grip on his gun growing lax, and Gray watched him carefully, still wheezing. Before he knew it, his gun had slipped from his grip and his chest was pressed against Gray’s.

“Go on,” Gray said again, dropping his voice to a husky growl, shifting slightly under Max’s weight. He didn’t weigh anything--he was tall, taller than Gray, but so  _ scrawny _ …

Max didn’t need to be told twice. Still almost unsure of what he was doing-- _ he’s old enough to be your father, and then some, what the fuck-- _ he closed his eyes and gently pressed his mouth to Gray’s, feeling the old mercenary kiss him back, groaning quietly as their lips met. They were still for a moment, both of them briefly unsure of how to proceed, until Gray put an arm around Max’s waist, pulling him closer, kissing him deeper.

Max growled low in his throat, sitting up and straddling Gray’s middle. He fisted one hand into Gray’s hair, thrusting his head back.

“Wait, wait,” Gray muttered when he felt Max’s teeth on his throat, and Max paused, raising an eyebrow. “You’re messing up my hair.”

Max gripped Gray’s hair tighter as he bit down.


End file.
